


Under His Skin

by mintalien



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M, Morgan has a tattoo kink, Pining, Slow Burn, Tattooed Reid, Tattoos, it might just be a Reid kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintalien/pseuds/mintalien
Summary: Reid keeps getting tattoos; Morgan keeps wanting to trace them with his tongue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's a severe lack of tattooed Reid fics in this fandom so this is extremely self-indulgent.

Morgan notices things.

Given, it’s his job. It’s in the description.

But the thing about Reid is he thinks people don’t notice him. He thinks he blends into the background, that no one really pays attention to him when people like Morgan or JJ or the rest of the ridiculously attractive team is around, and occasionally he does, but Morgan likes to know where he is. Too much shit’s happened for him to not get protective of the kid.

So Morgan notices when Reid favors his left shoulder, rolling it around regularly and hissing when he leans against the back of his desk chair. As far as Morgan knows, Reid wasn’t injured on any of their latest assignments, and his spastic movements haven’t caused him to adorably run into a file cabinet or anything.

Morgan can only stew in his curiosity for so long before traps Reid in the lunch room, crowding close to his turned back and examining his shoulder. It’s slightly puffy, like there’s a bandage underneath the crisp beige shirt.

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

Reid jumps nearly a foot in the air. “Morgan, Jesus! You scared me.” He faces Morgan, forced to lean against the counter so he’s got breathing room. “Nothing’s wrong with my shoulder. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kid, what happened?”

Reid sighs. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

He grins. “Do I ever, Pretty Boy?”

Reid sighs again, before glancing around and quietly saying, “I got a tattoo, alright?”

Morgan balks. He doesn’t really know how to react to that; it was certainly the last thing he was expecting. “Bullshit.”

“Wha– I did!”

“ _You._ Spencer Reid. You got a tattoo. Spencer Reid got a tattoo. On his body. With a bunch of needles.”

“Yes, we’ve established my identity and how tattoos are administered.” Reid huffs, looking away. “Can I go back to making my sandwich now?”

“Can I see it?” Morgan can’t let it go now. He has the overwhelming urge to see what Reid felt needed to be on his body forever.

Reid stares at him for a moment. There’s barely half a foot of space between them. “You want to see it?”

“Isn’t that what I asked?” When Reid doesn’t stop looking at him skeptically, Morgan sighs. “Look, if it’s bothering you, maybe I can help. You know I’ve been down this road.”

Reid glances at the lion on Morgan’s bicep, which he’s hiding less and less these days after everything with Buford went down, and finally nods. “Later, though, after work. You can come over, alright?”

Morgan finally relents and nods back, taking a few steps back to give Reid some breathing room. “I’m holding you to that, Pretty Boy. I’m driving you home today so you can’t run off.”

Reid snorts and turns back to his sandwich. “Yeah, yeah; don’t you have paperwork to do?”

Morgan laughs as he leaves Reid alone in the break room.

-

Morgan’s curiosity doesn’t lessen at all for the rest of the day. He finds himself looking at Reid more than he does his paperwork, and he ruins the end of his pencil from chewing at it as he contemplates what Reid could have gotten and why. Was he drunk? Was it on a whim? Was it just a homage to one of his favorite nerdy shows?

By the time they’re all dismissed for the day Morgan practically bolts to Reid’s desk before the kid can even get up. Reid just laughs, “I haven’t forgotten, Morgan. Jesus, you’re like a dog begging for a bone.”

Morgan chooses to ignore his choice of words, instead impatiently watching as Reid straightens his work station at a glacial pace. After a few minutes of putting up with it he says, “You’re doing this just to mess with me, aren’t you?”

Reid laughs again and grabs his messenger back, cleaning forgotten. “Maybe I like seeing you squirm. You didn’t get any work done today, did you?”

The playful bickering continues as they leave the building and get in Morgan’s car, and all the way to Reid’s apartment. Reid flicks the lights on and sets his messenger bag on the couch next to a bored-looking tabby cat. He scratches it behind the ear affectionately. “Hey, Archimedes.” It mews once before stretching and eyeballing Morgan suspiciously.

Reid glances at Morgan over his shoulder, his unbearably tantalizing shoulder, as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want some coffee?”

Morgan, of course, follows him. “I _want_ to see your ink, kid. Stop teasing me.”

Reid sighs and sets the coffee pot down. “Alright, alright. I suppose you’ve sustained enough torture for one day.” He pauses. “Would you mind helping me with it? I have to keep it moisturized but I’ve been having trouble reaching it.”

“As long as I get to see it, I’ll do whatever you want, man.”

Reid snorts as he guides Morgan to his bedroom, which is exactly what Morgan expected: a shitload of books, filling the multiple bookshelves and overflowing to stacks on the floor, and a moderately clean desk with what must be a ten-year-old computer and printer on top. Reid opens the top drawer of his night stand and pulls out non-scented lotion and tosses it to Morgan.

“Alright, kid, ditch the shirt,” Morgan says, practically vibrating with anticipation. Why he’s so excited about this, he isn’t sure; he feels like he’s getting to see a whole new side to Reid, one he never would have expected in his wildest dreams, and it’s throwing him for a loop.

Reid raises an eyebrow but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway. “What, I don’t get a drink first?”

“Ohh, you’ve got jokes now?” Morgan laughs, watching intently as Reid drops the shirt, revealing pale skin and, surprisingly, lean muscle. There’s a trail of dark hair disappearing into Reid’s corduroys that Morgan is weirdly intrigued by, and thankfully Reid turns around so his back faces him before Morgan can have anymore weird thoughts about his half-naked coworker’s body.

Morgan steps closer and almost places a hand on Reid’s pale back before catching himself, remembering that he has a thing about people touching him.

 _You’re about to be touching him a whole lot,_ Morgan thinks. _He wouldn’t have asked you to do that if he wasn’t comfortable._

Morgan relaxes and carefully trails a few fingers along the edge of the bandage. “Can I?”

Reid nods silently, and Morgan holds his breath as he carefully peels the bandage away. It’s not what he expected; it’s formal, solid black Roman numerals, a date, he thinks, followed by a semicolon. “It’s –”

“The day I got clean,” Reid says. Morgan suddenly realizes that as of a few days ago, it’s been exactly six months since Reid got off Dilaudid, and quickly understands the meaning behind the tattoo. “A semicolon tattoo is usually recognized as a reflection of someone’s personal struggles with depression, suicide, or addiction.” Morgan nods, gently brushing his fingers over the raised skin, and Reid shivers. “Sorry, sensitive.” He clears his throat. “You have the lotion?”

“Uh, yeah.” Morgan pumps a bit onto his hand and carefully rubs it into Reid’s skin. “How bad was it? The pain, I mean?”

Reid shrugs, then winces at the pain. “Not that bad. Like a scratching-burning sensation, I guess?” Morgan nods, understanding. “Honestly, I think I might’ve… liked it? I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about how it felt.”

“Nah, I get it,” Morgan says. “I felt the same way. It kinda makes you feel better when you’re going through a shitty time, right?” After a moment, Reid nods, and Morgan can feel him tremble under his touch again. He slides his fingers under the slightly reddened skin, contrasting in a far too intriguing way with the dark ink, and he has a sudden urge to press his lips against the tattoo. He awkwardly clears his throat and drops his hand. “Well, it looks great, kid. It’s healing really well. But let it breathe, alright?”

Reid nods and slips his shirt back on, turning back to Morgan. He smiles sheepishly. “Thanks, Morgan. And thanks for, you know…”

Morgan isn’t sure if he’s referring to the moisturizer or for listening, but he nods back anyway. “Not a problem, kid. Happy to help anytime.” He grins. “Hey, wanna order takeout and watch Star Wars? There’s a marathon running right now.”

Reid smiles back as he finishes buttoning his shirt back up. “Sounds great. Thai?”

-

Morgan thinks about Reid’s tattoo a couple times over the year since he first saw it, mostly when he affectionately claps a hand on Reid’s shoulder and remembers that there’s just a thin layer of cloth between his skin and the ink on Reid’s, and it sends a weird, excited rush through him that he can’t explain. There are times he almost wishes Reid would spill something on his shirt so he’ll have to change out of it, just so that he can see the tattoo again.

This isn’t exactly what he meant.

He and Reid were closest to the latest unsub, who refused to surrender and instead grabbed Reid and held him captive with a knife to his throat. The second Morgan got the shot he took it, and the unsub fell instantly. He barely hears Reid yelp over the gunshot.

He quickly bends down to where Reid’s fallen. He’s clutching his bicep tight, and blood lazily spills between his fingers. “Shit, Pretty Boy, you okay?”

“I – I’m fine,” Reid insists, even as Morgan pries his hand off and tries to examine the wound, though it’s hard to fully check through Reid’s long-sleeved shirt. “His knife slipped as he fell. I don’t think I’ll need stitches.”

Morgan snorts and pulls him to his feet. “We’re going to the EMT to get you checked out anyway.” He nods to Hotch. “We good here?”

Hotch is already on the phone with the BAU but he waves them away.

As Reid predicted, the cut isn’t that bad, but he has to remove his shirt anyway so they can bandage it properly. Reid unbuttons it with minimal wincing, but it isn’t until his ribcage is revealed that –

“Hey, did you get another tattoo?!” Morgan quickly pulls his shirt the rest of the way off, chivalry be damned.

“Wha- Morgan!” Reid squeaks, but Morgan’s already examining the dark script written along the right side of his ribs, running from under his pectoral to almost the last rib. The cursive is beautifully done, but Morgan would have to get closer to actually read it.

“Damn, you’ve been holding out on me, kid!” Morgan laughs. “What’s it say?”

Reid sighs as the EMT bandages his arm and tries to curl in on himself a bit, clearly trying to hide his torso. “It’s a passage from Margery Kempe’s book. It’s my mom’s favorite.”

Morgan nods. “Nice. I like it.” He politely doesn’t say anything when Reid blushes. “Why didn’t you tell me you got another one?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to…?” Reid raises an eyebrow.

“Well,” Morgan says, leaning close and reveling in the way that Reid’s breath hitches, “next time, tell me.”

After a weird pause, one that is probably making the EMT uncomfortable but Morgan honestly couldn’t care less because all of his focus is on the man in front of him, Reid nods. Morgan grins and backs off, walking back to the crime scene as he attempts to hide how flustered he secretly is.

Later, as he’s lying in bed and giving up on paying attention to the football game on because he can’t get the dark ink on Reid’s naked chest out of his mind, all he can think is _Fuck._

Reid and his damn tattoos are, ironically, getting under his skin.

-

“I got another tattoo,” Reid says as he passes Morgan’s desk a few months later, grinning when Morgan chokes on his coffee.

As Morgan wipes at the darkening damp spot on his shirt he calls after Reid, “You can’t just tell me that in passing, man!”

He can’t help but smile back as Reid practically cackles.

-

That night he shows up at Reid’s doorstep with Chinese takeout and unrelenting curiosity. “Show me.”

“Hello to you too,” Reid says with a grin, moving aside so Morgan can come in. He’s already in a BAU T-shirt and sweatpants, as well as one bright pink sock and one kitty cat-print sock.

“Hello,” Morgan says, smiling obnoxiously. “Now show me.”

“We can’t eat first?”

“You get food when I see your ink, Pretty Boy.”

Reid sighs with a smirk as he pulls the collar of his shirt down a few inches, baring his left pectoral. Two chemical compounds that Morgan vaguely recognizes as serotonin and dopamine geometrically lined up on top of each other, an inch or two above his nipple. It’s simple but suits him perfectly.

And Morgan feels the overwhelming urge to trace his tongue over it. He isn’t sure whether it’s because of Reid, or the tattoo itself, or both, but he’s had this urge for a while. Late at night he’d think about how Reid trembled under his touch over a year and a half ago, and how he might do that if Morgan trailed feathery-light kisses along the tattoo on his ribs. Now he’s going to be plagued with late-night thoughts about trailing his mouth down from his pec tattoo down to his nipple.

He’s screwed.

And not in the way he wants to be.

But he hides this behind a grin as he eyes the nearly-healed tattoo, and looks back up to meet Reid’s eyes. “I think you might have a tattoo addiction, Pretty Boy.”

Reid just lets go of his collar with a shrug and snags the bag of takeout. “There are worse things I could be addicted to. Did you bring the chicken curry?”

Morgan follows him into the kitchen, sighing quietly to himself as he listens to Reid chatter animatedly about what must be the entire damn history of chicken curry.

-

The team spends nearly a week in Wisconsin chasing a serial killer who likes to kidnap young men and drug them before burying them alive. Reid is, understandably, on edge during the entirety of the case, and it takes Morgan longer than he’d like to admit to realize that in a couple days Reid will officially be clean for three years. He struggles to keep himself from reaching for Reid’s hand or pulling him into a hug when he’s clearly having trouble dealing with the case.

Reid’s quiet on the jet ride back to Quantico, but he doesn’t move away when Morgan sits closer to him than he probably needs to. It isn’t until they’ve landed and are heading home when he stops Morgan and quietly asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

They were all given the next two days off; Morgan had planned on working on one of his renovation projects, but he easily replies, “Nothing, what’s up?”

“I’m getting a tattoo tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?”

Morgan agrees with no hesitation. Reid nods and tells him the name of the shop and the appointment time so they can meet, but Morgan insists on picking him up, and Reid doesn’t argue. He actually looks a little relieved, and Morgan’s heart thumps a bit too painfully in his chest at this.

-

The shop is simple but the flash art on the wall is admittedly impressive. Morgan hasn’t asked what Reid wants yet; he’s still pretty quiet, and he doesn’t want him to regret inviting Morgan instead of JJ or Garcia, so he mostly keeps to himself until Reid’s name is called and Reid asks him to come to the back with him.

“I cleaned up your design a bit,” the artist – a cute girl with pink shaved hair and flowery tattoo sleeves – preps the equipment. She slides the design, a Fibonacci spiral design in greens and blues that almost resembles a crashing wave, to Reid, who examines it carefully and smiles softly. Morgan pretends it doesn’t make him melt on the inside a little bit. “Not that your design was bad or anything,” she clarifies. “I just added a few more elements and messed with the colors a little bit.”

“It’s perfect,” Reid says sincerely. He’s rolling up his sleeve and laying his arm face-up on the table, baring his faint track mark scars, and Morgan already knows the meaning behind this. The artist applies the stencil quickly and once Reid’s satisfied, starts up the tattoo machine.

“You ready?” the artist asks.

Reid nods, turning to Morgan as she starts inking him. “Hold my hand?” he asks quietly, and Morgan does, memorizing how their fingers feel intertwined as Reid shuts his eyes peacefully and lets the pain and buzzing wash over him.

-

A little over three hours later Morgan takes Reid back to his apartment, and smirks when Reid leaves his door open as an invitation for Morgan to follow.

They settle in the kitchen, Morgan sitting at the counter and Reid making coffee. His cat Archimedes stares at Morgan for a moment, just like he always does when he comes over, before butting his head against his arm. Morgan chuckles and gently scratches him behind the ears. He looks up at Reid, who’s staring at his bandaged arm intently.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

After a moment Reid looks up and smiles gently. “Nah. That’s okay. Want to watch the game?” He pauses. “Or did you have plans after this today?”

Morgan honestly wants to lean in and kiss that uncertainty off of his face. “I've got nowhere to be but here, Pretty Boy.”

-

It’s hard on everyone when Prentiss dies, but it’s hardest on Reid. He shows up at Morgan’s place a few nights a week just to cry, held tight in Morgan’s arms and sobbing into his chest. Morgan just holds him and presses his lips to his forehead. Most nights they don’t even have to talk. Sometimes Reid falls asleep there, either on Morgan’s sofa or in his bed, and Morgan never lets go of him. They never talk about it in the mornings, but it never makes anything between them awkward, either.

One night, about three months after Prentiss, when Reid hasn’t shown up all week, he finally lets himself into Morgan’s house (Morgan gave him a key nearly a year ago) and finds him in the kitchen cooking spaghetti.

Morgan doesn’t even blink at the new guest. “Hey.”

Reid sits at the kitchen island. “Hey. That smells good.”

“Thanks,” Morgan says. “There’s enough for two if you want to stay.”

Reid nods. “Sure.” He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “So I got another tattoo.”

Morgan turns the sauce down to simmer and stands across from him at the island, leaning over intently with his arms folded on the counter. “Show me?” It’s a request; Reid always shows him his tattoos but he doesn’t want to push him now.

He gets a sense of déjà vu when Reid pulls his shirt collar down to reveal Russian lettering on his bony collarbone, and Morgan curses himself when his mouth literally starts watering at the sight. It looks fresh, like might've gotten it yesterday. He clears his throat, trying to level his voice. “It’s beautiful.” _You’re beautiful._ “What’s it mean?”

Reid smiles, small and private, and says, “That’s between me and Prentiss.” Morgan nods and doesn't ask anything else. After a moment Reid slides a hand forward invitingly.

Morgan smiles back and accepts the invitation, lacing their fingers together comfortingly. They look at each other for a long moment, then:

“Your garlic bread is burning.”

“Oh, shit!”

Reid’s laughter as Morgan pulls too-brown garlic bread out of the oven is music to his ears.

-

Morgan’s about to head home when he hears JJ and Garcia loudly squealing about something. They, as well as Blake, are crowded around Spencer’s desk, talking animatedly.

“The colors look so good!” JJ exclaims. “Really, though, I didn’t have you pegged for a tattoo guy, Spence.”

Morgan snorts as he makes his way over, reveling in the fact that no one knows his pretty boy better than he does. Then he practically stops in his steps as he spots a flash of color on the back of Reid’s leg where he’s pulled his pant leg up halfway. As he gets closer he sees it’s a detailed brain on the back of his calf, the left side black and white and pouring out streams of words and number sequences, and the right half fluidly overflowing with bright splashes of watercolor, artistic and gorgeous.

“It really is amazingly done,” Blake remarks, leaning down to examine the intricate lines and colors further. “It’s definitely something I’d expect of you, Reid.”

Garcia quickly notices Morgan gaping and pulls him closer. “Sugar Shack, check out Boy Genius’ ink! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“I thought you were going to tell me whenever you got a new tattoo, Pretty Boy,” Morgan says with faux offense.

Reid smiles back sheepishly. “I got it, like, two days ago. I was going to show you later, I swear.” He rolls his pant leg down and picks up his messenger bag. “Speaking of, you ready to go? The classic horror movie marathon starts soon. They’re playing The Mummy and Frankenstein and-”

“I’ve been ready,” Morgan says, grinning at his enthusiasm. “You done showing off your colorful body parts?”

Reid blushes and says goodbye to the rest of the team. He and Morgan leave together, bickering about which classic monster could win in a fight.

Blake stares after them, brow furrowed. “So are they… dating? Or…?”

JJ snorts and Garcia sighs with a smile on her face. “They’ll figure it out eventually,” Garcia says.

-

It takes a couple years, but Morgan can finally fully admit that he’s in love with Spencer Reid.

And no, it’s not because of the tattoos. Nah, those just awakened a kink he didn’t know he had. It’s because, as Garcia likes to say, Reid is his perfect match. They’re the definition of “opposites attract.”

At least, they would be if Morgan could work up to nerve to do something about it.

But then Maeve happens, and then her death, and Reid disappears for a while. He won’t even answer the door when Morgan knocks.

When Reid finally lets people into his life again, and JJ, Garcia, and Morgan help clean out his apartment, Reid waits until the girls leave to practically knock Morgan over with a hug. Morgan clutches back as tightly as he can without hurting the kid.

They end up on Reid’s couch, Reid wrapped up in Morgan’s arms just all those nights after Prentiss died. They’re quiet for a while, until Reid says, voice broken, “These have been some of the shittiest weeks of my life.”

Morgan runs a hand through his unbelievably tangled hair. “I know, kid. I’m so sorry.”

“I wanted to use again.”

Morgan’s chest seizes at that and he can’t help his sharp intake of breath, or how his grip tightens around Reid.

“I didn’t,” Reid quickly clarifies, “but I wanted to. I wanted the pain to either stop, or I wanted to hurt more. I needed something physical to distract myself from my own head for a while.”

They’re both quiet for a minute before Morgan forces Reid to look at him. “What’d you do?”

Reid wiggles out of the hug and sits up, angling his side to Morgan, and lifts his sweatshirt. Morgan forgets how to breathe as he takes in the amazingly detailed explosion of an array of flowers growing out of a flask, expanding from the top of his ribcage and disappearing to his hip under his sweats. It’s giant and colorful and radiant, and Jesus Christ it must have hurt like a bitch.

“Wow,” Morgan says, at a loss for any other words. He slowly reaches out and fans a hand over the flowers, nearly healed and enticing as hell. “Reid… how long did this take?”

He lets the sweatshirt drop, and Morgan already misses the gorgeous sight. “Five, six hours? I’m honestly not sure. I got it all done in one session. It hurt like hell.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Morgan says. “How’d you get it done if you didn’t leave…?”

“The artist who did my Fibonacci spiral, Penny, home-delivered when she heard what happened. We’ve kept in touch.”

Morgan grins. “Her name’s Penny?”

“I know, right?” Reid cracks a smile, but it’s gone in an instant. “I want another one already. Derek, I don’t…” his voice breaks, “I don’t know what to do. I’m tired of feeling like this.”

He falls back against Morgan and Morgan readily wraps him back up in a hug. “I know, kid,” he says again. “It’ll get easier. It won’t go away, but it’ll get easier.”

Reid starts crying again soon after that, and even though all Morgan wants to do is tell Reid how much he loves him, he keeps it to himself. Reid needs a friend right now so that’s what he’ll be.

-

Prentiss comes back, and Reid makes it known how betrayed he feels. He’s furious with both Prentiss and JJ, and Morgan’s seen him trail his fingers where the Russian tattoo is when he thinks no one’s looking.

They’re at Reid’s a few nights after Prentiss comes back, eating cereal in their pajamas because that’s what Reid wanted to do, when Reid suddenly asks, “Have you ever gotten a tattoo removed? How much does it hurt?”

Morgan drops his spoon in the bowl with a loud _clank._ “Kid, no,” he says firmly. “You know you don’t actually want to do that.”

“She betrayed us, Morgan,” Reid says petulantly.

“She was staying _safe._ ” When Reid doesn’t respond he continues, “Look, you got that tattoo because you needed it at the time, right?” Reid nods. “Then that’s it. You love your friend, and you were at a time in your life when you needed it, so you got something for the both of you. She didn’t mean to hurt you, Reid.”

Reid stays quiet for another minute and Morgan goes back to his cereal, but finally Reid nudges him with a pink-and-orange polka dot sock (the other one a solid teal) and says, “Thanks, Morgan.”

Morgan smiles. “You got it, kid. Wanna watch X-Files?”

Reid grins, and soon they’re debating whether or not the current case Scully and Mulder are trying to solve is truly supernatural or not.

-

“You didn’t,” Morgan laughs as Reid shows off his latest masterpiece: a starry galaxy wrapping around the upper half of his left arm. Planets and asteroids float about the stars as well as the TARDIS, the Millennium Falcon, and the USS Enterprise, as well as a few other nerdy references that Morgan doesn’t recognize. It’s incredible, just like the rest of his tattoos, and it’s just so perfectly Reid that Morgan can’t stop grinning, his heart swelling affectionately.

“I did,” Reid says smugly. He came to Morgan’s almost immediately after getting it finished, having spent nearly 7 hours of their day off in the chair. He’s been in an adorably good mood lately, after forgiving Prentiss for faking her death earlier that week and successfully solving a complicated puzzle that resulted in the team saving a group of kids from a deranged serial killer, and as a result Morgan’s in a good mood too.

Morgan shakes his head fondly when Reid hisses when he accidentally re-bandages it too roughly. “You’ve gotta stop doing these in one session, kid.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life,” Reid snarks, grinning.

Morgan crowds closer to Reid on the sofa they’re sharing, practically crawling in his lap, wearing his best intimidation face, but Reid just giggles. Honest to God, _giggles._ “You better watch your mouth, Pretty Boy.”

“Or what?” Reid says, looking up at him daringly. He glances down at Morgan’s lips for a split second before quickly meeting his gaze again, eyebrows lifting like he’s challenging him.

Morgan pauses, teasing mood suddenly gone and instead replaced with uncertainty. “Kid, what –”

“Just shut up and kiss me, Derek.” Reid grabs Morgan’s shirt collar and yanks him the last few inches forward.

Reid doesn’t kiss how Morgan was expecting. He was expecting rushed clumsiness, like how Reid usually is, but instead Reid takes his time, his lips soft and undemanding and sweet like the coffee he chugs. Morgan almost feels overwhelmed when Reid cups his cheek and he can’t help the hungry moan that spills out, because he’s been waiting for this for years and it’s so much better than he ever imagined. And he’s imagined it a _lot._

They continue to make out lazily until Reid reluctantly pulls away and quietly says, “I’d really like to continue doing this but… could we switch places? My arm’s pressing into the back of the sofa a little too hard.”

Morgan smirks and quickly gets up, confusing Reid until he scoops him up, ignoring his yelp, and carries him like a princess to his bedroom. “Nah, I’ve been wanting to lick your tattoos for years. I’m not holding back any longer, Pretty Boy.”

Reid laughs as he’s deposited onto Morgan’s bed. “You’re such a weirdo –”

“ _I’m_ the weirdo?”

“- I have way more tattoos than you; it’s going to take you forever to do that.”

“Better get started now, then.” Morgan yanks Reid’s shirt up, careful not to touch the newest piece, and quickly starts sucking on the chemical symbols on his chest before biting at his nipple.

“Fucking weirdo,” Reid says again, still laughing, and as Morgan leans up to kiss and swallow that laughter he decides he’s never been happier.

-

“Derek, wake up.”

Morgan grumbles as his boyfriend gently jostles him awake. He opens one eye to check the time. It’s almost one in the morning.

“Damn, you got home late,” Morgan says sleepily. “How was the lecture?”

“Yeah, I might've lied about lied about that,” Reid says.

Morgan frowns, and even in the dark he can see the sheepish look on Reid’s face. “You wanna elaborate?”

Reid lifts his shirt up a bit to reveal a white bandage right above his hip. He’s already changed out of his work clothes, leaving him in an undershirt and boxers. Morgan snorts and lets his head thump against the pillows. “Jesus, Spence, another one?”

The mattress shifts as Reid practically climbs over him to switch on the lamp. Morgan grabs a handful of his amazing ass while it’s so close and Reid scrambles back. “Hey, not yet. I have something to show you.”

Morgan laughs and rubs at his eyes as he sits up. “Alright, I’m up. Show me, Pretty Boy.”

Reid peels away the bandage slowly and as the tattoo is revealed, Morgan’s eyes widen and he forgets how to breathe. “You…”

It’s a lion, smaller but nearly identical to the one on Morgan’s arm, fresh and dark and beautiful against his skin. Reid waits for Morgan’s reaction nervously, his brows drawn together and his bottom lip between his teeth. Morgan reaches up and wraps his hands around his hips, thumb almost but not quite touching the new tattoo.

Finally Morgan surges up to kiss the air out of Reid’s lungs and Reid relaxes against him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. After God knows how long they finally break away for air, forehead to forehead and lips centimeters away from each other’s.

“It’s perfect,” Morgan says roughly. “You’re perfect. I love you.”

Reid’s eyes widen at the confession and he breaks into a grin. “I love you, too.”

Morgan practically growls and wraps his arms around Reid’s back, flipping them and pressing Reid into the sheets, biting kisses into his pale neck and over the ink on his chest as Reid laughs happily.

-

They’re lying on the stiff hotel bed together, Reid in Morgan’s arms as usual, when Reid starts slipping his engagement ring on and off his finger rhythmically, clearly deep in thought. Morgan kisses the bird’s nest his fiancé calls hair and says, “What’s bothering you, Pretty Boy?”

Reid snaps out of his train of thought, ring almost completely off his finger, and he pulls it off completely and starts tossing it in the air. “I almost lost this today, when JJ and I were chasing down the first unsub. It slipped off my finger while I was getting my gun out of the holster and it took me half an hour to find in that alley.”

Morgan frowns, contemplative. “I guess rings are kind of a hassle in the field, huh?”

“Both Hotch and JJ have needed to get replacements,” Reid confirms. He suddenly rolls over, his bare chest pressed against Morgan’s, and meets his eyes. “Have you ever thought about something else? Like, something other than rings?”

Morgan already knows where he’s going with this, but he feigns obliviousness anyway. “What are you suggesting?” he asks with a small smile.

“Tattoos, obviously.” He lifts Morgan’s hand, tracing his nail along his ring finger. “Nothing super visible, because of the Bureau’s policy, but… something that signifies we belong to each other, you know? We wouldn’t have to worry about losing it in the field.”

Morgan presses another smiling kiss into Reid’s hair. “I like the sound of that,” he says. “What did you have in mind?”

-

The rings are put in a jewelry box that belonged to Reid’s mother as soon as they get back from the honeymoon, and as soon as they’re done with that they head to Reid’s favorite shop to get each other’s stylized initials tattooed on the inside of their left ring fingers.

As Morgan and Reid lay in bed, fingers intertwined and matching tattoos on display, Morgan grins and thinks that it looks better than the rings did anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> edit: i just realized the Maeve timeline may have been off but y'know wat i already fucked with the timeline so much that i'm frankly too lazy to fix it


End file.
